


A Fortunately Unfortunate Afternoon

by madlysanecatlady



Series: The Nice and Accurate Ineffable Husbands Compendium [14]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Confessions, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-05-15 14:42:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19297831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madlysanecatlady/pseuds/madlysanecatlady
Summary: Crowley doesn't startle easily, and he doesn't startle often, but when he does, there's an unfortunate side effect.





	A Fortunately Unfortunate Afternoon

This was utterly humiliating. One would _think_ (not unreasonably) that upwards of six millennia of practice would lend a demon a fair bit of control over their form. In the _very_ least one would hope to have mastered being in a vaguely human-like corporation that it would not continue to be his primary instinct to revert to his more slithery self after being mildly startled. Of course, what one would think was oft wildly and disappointingly different from what happened to be.

Which would be how Crowley found himself in his current predicament. To think, something so stupid as a goose would be enough to startle him so much that he forgot how to be, well, _himself_ , for a moment. Becoming a large and ferocious looking snake had been helpful in terms of scaring the goose off without any damage to his corporation (which was a win, all things considered), but had quickly become a very unwelcome happening once he realised he honestly had no clue how to reverse the metamorphosis. That could prove problematic. Particularly as the temperature was rapidly cooling in the late September cloud canopy.

Keeping out of sight from the humans milling around the London streets, not wanting to cause an unnecessary panic about the presence of a great lethal-looking snake in the city, Crowley slithered his way carefully through the streets, finding his way to SoHo with minimal incident, aside from the brief moment he would rather not mention where he had gotten his head trapped in a discarded takeaway coffee cup when he wasn’t paying enough attention to where he was going. He had had enough harm done to his delicate ego as it was, he was ready to fully push this from his mind forever. If he could only figure out how to stop being an infernal snake.

The reality of his situation was once again foisted upon him when he reached corner of the familiar bookshop that looked decidedly unfamiliar from down here on the ground. He knew he was going to run into a problem when he turned the corner and came upon the door – how would he pull the door open without hands?

The situation, thankfully, did not arise. When he turned the street corner, he saw a pair of very familiar brown shoes standing outside the shop. He was speaking to the woman Crowley knew ran the coffee shop across the street, apparently lamenting the loss of a particular confection the shop had clearly decided to discontinue. Smirking as much as a snake could smirk, Crowley decided to see if he could startle the angel a little, knowing he could simply cause the coffee shop woman to have a mild case of them-specific amnesia should anything untoward slip out in his shock.

He surreptitiously slithered over, wrapping himself around Aziraphale’s perpetually beige-clad ankle and began the slow process of climbing up the angel’s leg. He frowned inwardly (snake faces are not exactly masters in emotional displays, after all) when the only reaction he earned was the angel looking down with a small _oh_ that quickly turned into a smile.

‘Er,’ the coffee shop woman blanched, looking horrified. ‘There’s a python climbing you, Mr. Fell. You’ve, er, noticed that, haven’t you?’

‘Oh yes, of course,’ Aziraphale reached down to allow Crowley to begin climbing his arm to reach his shoulders. ‘He’s a dear friend, and is very lovely. Say hello, my dearest.’

Crowley decided immediately that he did not like this woman. He had only had passing interaction with her up until this point, but he had never really spared her much attention. But now, upon seeing the look in her eyes while she looked at _his_ angel, he decided that she was _persona non grata_ as far as he was concerned. He figured she could use a nice lesson in _backing the heav-well somewhere_ _off_. With a serpentine smirk, he lifted his head from its rest on Aziraphale’s shoulder and looked her square in the eye, making no secret of his outward aggression, and let out a long, unsettling _hiss_. When he was satisfied by the increase of fear in her eyes, he wrapped himself more securely around the angel, resting his head in the crook of his neck.

Aziraphale’s chin pressed down gently atop Crowley’s head in sorry imitation of a hug. He smiled. ‘Such a sweet snake, isn’t he? I’m sure he’s quite pleased to meet you. He’d tell you so himself, I’m sure, if he could talk.’

Crowley had been about to slip up and speak to her to tell her to _buzz off_ , but Aziraphale seemed rather interested in keeping up appearances, and Crowley did not want to ruin that for him. However, he did not want to give her that false impression that he _liked_ her, so he turned back to her and let out another, slightly louder hiss. He watched with satisfaction as her eyes widened and the colour drained even further from her face. He resettled in his place, basking in the warmth oozing out of the angel’s skin.

‘Well, it’s been lovely as always catching up with you, Mr. Fell,’ the coffee shop woman squeaked out, not tearing her eyes away from the snake snuggling up to Aziraphale. ‘I had better get back – I’m sure a rush will be heading in soon!’ She gave a final nod before fleeing back across the street, not even giving Aziraphale a chance to respond.

Aziraphale smiled, hand coming up to pat the serpent head absently. ‘It seems you’ve had _quite_ the morning, dear. Let’s get you inside before you freeze, hm?’

‘Thanksssss angel,’ Crowley hissed out, thoroughly out of practice in navigating around his long forked tongue. He thought he might choke on it if he didn’t dedicate the appropriate attention to its movements, so much so that he nearly missed the slight pinking of angelic cheeks, the softening of kind eyes, and the small quirking of full lips. He was very pleased to not have missed it. The soft, _loving_ way the angel always cared about him filled him with enough warmth to keep even the coldest of London mornings from harming his snakey self.

Aziraphale closed up the shop, Crowley suspecting the angel had been looking for _any_ reason to do so and quite pleased to have been of service. He then carried the heavy snake into the back room, a warm hearth and fire miraculously appearing as they entered. ‘Ah there we go now, dear, that’s much nicer than the cold street, isn’t it?’

Aziraphale made to put Crowley down onto the sofa, but the snake tightened himself around the angel’s shoulders, refusing to budge. ‘No, sssssss’warm here.’

‘Oh you poor thing,’ Aziraphale reached up to rub the smooth scaly expanse of Crowley’s back, flinching at how cool the skin felt. ‘Your venture over here must have frozen you to the core!’ He plopped down onto the soft cushions of the sofa and patted his soft lap. ‘Come down here, dear, I’ll get you nice and warmed up.’

Crowley did as he was told, slithering smoothly down the angel’s front and curling up in his lap. He let out a hiss of contentment when Aziraphale tucked a blanket around him, trapping the heat radiating off of him in with the chilled snake. Crowley readjusted, poking his face out from underneath the fleece. ‘You’re the besssssst, angel.’

‘What happened, Crowley? I don’t think I’ve seen you like this, well, in at _least_ a millennium,’ Aziraphale frowned. ‘Last time, you were nearly trampled by an elephant you never saw coming… and it took you _days_ to remember how to transform back.’

‘It’ssssssss, errrr, ssssssimilar,’ Crowley hissed hesitantly. ‘I’m hoping it _won’t_ take dayssss thisssss time.’

‘Yes, that would be awful,’ Aziraphale hummed sympathetically, absently trailing circles against the snake’s back through the blanket. ‘It gets a good deal colder here in London, hm?’

Crowley made a noise of assent, closing his large yellow eyes in contentment, basking in the warmth and affection the angel passed onto him. He hadn’t slept in this form in over six thousand years, but he felt his mind going fuzzy under the angel’s gentle care, sleep calling to him insistently. Curled up all cozily under this blanket, with his angel gently petting him, he decided to answer that call and let himself drift off.

 

* * *

 

 

Crowley woke feeling warm but as though something were missing. He cracked open one eye and then the other. Ah, yes. Legs. Legs were missing. As were arms. But he knew that already, didn’t he? Yes, he hadn’t slept so long as to forget the regrettable and deeply embarrassing events of the morning. Unfortunately. No, something else was amiss.

He looked around. He was still in the angel’s office in the back room of the bookshop, but the angel was nowhere to be seen. _Ah_. Yes. That was what he missed. There was a large amount of warmth emanating from the lovely fire that was still roaring next to him, but it was nothing like the gentle one coming from Aziraphale. Still, he was still rather comfortable here. He smiled to himself as much as a snake’s mouth could allow him to smile. Aziraphale had ensured to leave him curled up under the fleecy blanket atop a plush pillow right next to the fire. The amount of care that he knew had gone into his current position made the entirety of Crowley’s serpentine body soft, a though he were ready to melt into the fabric of the pillow. Although, now he thought of that, that might partly be the heat from the fire.

He slithered out from underneath the blanket and stretched his body out to its full length. He took a minute to take proper stock, ensuring he was properly warmed and no cricks had developed after having been curled up for a few hours in his still largely unfamiliar snake form (although there was much to be said with regards to the instinctual things like movement that never seemed to get forgotten), before turning his attention to the office door, which Aziraphale had uncharacteristically left ajar. Clearly, the angel had wanted to ensure Crowley did not feel trapped at all in here, despite the fact that at his size he could easily open the door, despite the glaring lack of hands. He could hear Aziraphale’s soft voice speaking in the shop front – a “customer” must have come calling. Crowley figured he could repay the angel a little by going out to scare whatever poor soul had come to try and part the angel with one of his precious books.

There was a man there leaning against the till counter who was – well – _foppish_ was the only word Crowley could think of to describe him. He wore mauve ( _mauve – who the heaven wore mauve?_ ) skinny-leg trousers with a bright yellow floral silk dress shirt tucked into them. The trousers fit snugly into the dark leather boots he wore that were embellished with what looked to be _genuine_ Swarovski crystals. Atop his sheet of long, shiny blond hair sat a matching mauve floppy-brimmed fedora with a large peacock feather tucked into the band. Crowley honestly thought he looked a little ridiculous, but he clearly enjoyed his ensemble.

His snake eyes narrowed when he took in the way the man leaned in towards Aziraphale as he spoke, his eyes and smile betraying the less-than-platonic thoughts he was clearly having about the angel. He suddenly didn’t care at all about his intentions regarding the books, he simply wanted him away from Aziraphale. He slithered across the shop floor, unseen by the pair of chatting men and stopped at Aziraphale’s feet, weighing his options.

He decided to go with the tried and true _Mine, Back Off Technique_ , wrapping around both of the angel’s legs to climb upwards, wrapping himself possessively around Aziraphale’s belly and resting his head heavily on the angel’s shoulder, staring the fop down with narrowed eyes. He hissed, keeping _most_ of the aggression at bay, keeping himself some plausible deniability should the angel decide to chastise him for scaring away the humans.

The fop smiled. _He smiled_. That was enough to have Crowley unconsciously baring his fangs. He couldn’t be having any human who looked at _his_ angel like _that_ thinking he was anything less than a terrifying, formidable foe. ‘That’s a lovely pet you’ve got, Mr. Fell.’

‘Oh why he _is_ quite beautiful, isn’t he?’ Aziraphale absently reached up to pet Crowley’s head gently. ‘He truly is a most perfect, unique specimen for his kind.’

There was so much affection dripping from the angel’s tone that Crowley felt he might melt onto the angel’s ever-pristine clothes. He briefly relaxed, figuring that would be enough to convince the man he was _taken_ , and to leave now lest he embarrass himself terribly. But then he stilled, remembering the fact that humans didn’t typically enter into relationships with animals in a romantic way, and _certainly_ never advertised that fact to others if they did. He would need to figure out some way to convince this human to leave.

‘Well, if you ever need help with him, you know where to find me, darling,’ the fop smiled widely. ‘I absolutely _love_ reptiles. They’re so lovely and cuddly. If ever you decide you need a holiday, I’d be happy to take him.’

Crowley bristled, hissing before he could stop himself. _Darling?_ Who the heaven, no hell, well _somewhere_ did this person think he was, talking to his angel like that? He needed to find some way to scare this bugger off, and quickly. With no ideas coming easily to mind, he settled on hissing again, a little more aggressively this time.

‘Oooh, he’s a feisty little mister, isn’t he? I do so love that in a scaly little friend,’ the man smiled again, reaching out to pat Crowley’s head but smartly deciding against it when Crowley’s eyes zeroed in on the artery in his delicate wrist. ‘Hmm, he reminds me a little of your partner, that handsome man in the classic car? Must be why you’re so smitten with the little fellow.’

‘Mm, quite,’ Aziraphale looked uncomfortable. ‘He’s a very charming and kind snake, yes.’

 _Partner?_ Crowley thought his brain might be short-circuiting. Had he heard that correctly? The connotations of that, well, they could go one of two ways – either he was under the impression that he and Aziraphale were in the bookshop business together or that they were… no, he had clearly misheard. The angel was still _far_ too skittish to let anyone be under that impression. He’d only just defied Heaven and everything he had ever thought was right – Crowley knew he would need some time to adjust to that before he had room in his mind for anything else.

‘Well, best get back to the shop, hmm? So many pretties to sell to some pretties,’ the foppish man waved airily, heading to the door. ‘And I meant it, darling. If you ever need someone to look after that little treasure for you, say if you take a holiday with a certain Mr. Handsome, you know where to find me. And of course, _do_ come pay me a visit if you decide to turn that pretty boy into an honest one.’

The man’s periwinkle eyes twinkled mischievously over at Aziraphale and the snake as he left. Aziraphale let out a flustered breath after a minute of stunned silence.

‘Well, nice to see there’s some warmth back in you, dear,’ he said finally, patting the snake coils curled securely around his tummy. ‘How are you feeling?’

‘Warm,’ Crowley gave his best snakeish impression of a shrug. ‘Who wassssss that?’

‘Mr. Svengaard owns the jewellery shop next door,’ Aziraphale made his way back into his office, rather liking the warm tightness around his middle. It was as though he were in a portable hug from his favourite demon. ‘He’s a lovely man. He took a rather unfortunate interest in my lack of social life when he first took over the shop, but he’s come to be a rather nice conversation partner as of late.’

‘Sssso he wasssn’t trying to buy sssssome bookssss?’ Crowley let out an amused hiss in lieu of a laugh. ‘He sseemss to like you. He’sss watched you enough to ssssee me around.’

‘Ah, yes, I suppose so,’ Aziraphale’s entire face flushed red. ‘He’s an observant one.’

‘Angel, don’t get all flussssstered,’ Crowley really didn’t like how darkly red the angel’s face was going. The last thing either of them needed was one of them discorporating over some exploded blood vessels. ‘What’ssss the matter?’

‘I hope the pillow was comfortable enough,’ Aziraphale was clearly deciding to ignore Crowley’s question. He bent to pick up the cushion and blanket, placing them on his reading chair. ‘Although I suppose I mustn’t have had the fire warm enough if you came looking for more heat.’

‘Your warmth issss jussssst better, angel,’ Crowley tightened briefly around the angel in an affectionate squeeze. ‘It’ssss gentler. But anssswer the quesssstion. What’ssss got you sssso worked up?’

‘Oh, you’ll think me so silly,’ Aziraphale started pacing. This had Crowley instantly worried. Aziraphale _never_ paced like this. He was clearly very nervous about _something_. He uncurled himself from around Aziraphale’s shoulders slightly to look at him carefully.

‘Angel, you’re often ssssilly, but never thisssss upssset about it,’ he said slowly. ‘Talk to me. Pleassse.’

‘Oh, just please don’t get upset with me, I was right stupid,’ Aziraphale shook his head, looking distraught. ‘Mr. Svengaard was always trying to find me dates, or introduce me to nice friends of his, and I just, well, I told him you and I were, you know, _an item_ , so that he could stop feeling as though he needed to take pity on my romantic affairs. But it’s really only shifted his interests onto what he thinks is our relationship. I’m sorry I used you as an excuse, it really could have put you into an awkward position since I hadn’t warned you. And really, it’s a bit insulting, you could _clearly_ do so much better than me.’

Crowley did not know what he was expecting to hear, but it certainly hadn’t been any of _that_. He studied the angel carefully, taking in the red blotches adorning his face that was not altogether unattractive, the wideness and – troublingly – wetness of his lovely eyes, and the worried way he was biting at his bottom lip. Crowley searched for something to say that could soothe and reassure the angel all at once, but found his mind rather unhelpfully blank of anything other than thoughts of wrapping his arms (so rudely missing at the moment) around this angel and kissing him thoroughly.

His imagination was, as always, in top form. He pictured stepping closer to Aziraphale, reaching out, taking that beautiful, perfect face in between his hands, gently caressing away the angry redness beneath his thumbs. He could almost hear the murmured assurances he would make, closing the distance between them, watching those expressive and kind eyes draw ever closer before they went out of focus as their lips almost touched. He could almost feel the press of soft lips against his, opened slightly in lax surprise, and so inviting to him.

He barely noticed his body was changing until his spine was forcibly unwinding from around Aziraphale’s midsection to shrink back into proper place. Legs and arms followed quickly, shooting out and sprouting feet and hands, which all responded wonderfully to his tentative flexes. He smiled widely, feeling his head return to normal, fangs and tongue retreating to leave him feeling much more normal.

Aziraphale looked ready to comment on the metamorphosis, but still looked so unsure and dejected that Crowley could only reach out, pulling the angel’s face closer and pressing their lips together rather more forcefully than he had imagined. Aziraphale’s mouth did indeed fall open briefly in surprise as Crowley had thought it would, but the angel recovered surprisingly quickly, kissing Crowley back with a fervour he had not been expecting. It was intoxicating and heady, finally having this perfect angel in his arms, kissing him with such abandon. Crowley felt his head swimming; he was so overcome by sensation and emotion he had to pull away, despite the fact that it felt nearly physically painful to do so.

‘Angel, no one could ever do better than you,’ he said quietly, watching the angel’s cheeks turn a delicate pink with a fond smile. ‘And you can feel free to use me any way you want – I’m all yours.’

Aziraphale gaped at him for a moment, processing, before tugging Crowley over to him by hos jacket and pressing their lips back together. This kiss was even more enthusiastic than the last, and had Crowley’s whole body short-circuiting in seconds. He had pictured first kisses between them more times than anyone – mortal or otherwise – could count, but this was _infinitely_ better than any daydream. Aziraphale was warm and welcoming as always, but a new sizzling passion was lit up within him the moment their lips touched. The angel’s movements each began tentatively, but quickly became more sure, as though he were feeling everything out and gauging Crowley’s reactions.

Crowley pulled away after what felt like an eternity of bliss, gasping in a breath of air. ‘Angel, every time I think I can’t love you any more than I do, you go and do something to turn me to mush.’

Aziraphale’s eyes went wide, shining in the dim lights and seeming to dance in the flickering of the firelight. ‘You love me?’ he asked in barely a whisper.

‘How could I not, angel?’ Crowley rolled his eyes. ‘Do you honestly not see how perfect you are? You really can be so incredibly not-clever despite how clever you really are sometimes.’

Crowley thought Aziraphale might melt into a puddle of goo on the floor he looked so soft. The open look of affection – no, it was more than that – _adoration_ on the angel’s face made Crowley’s heart want to burst it was so full. He smiled, not his usual smirk or amused smile, but an open and loving smile, and stroked gentle patterns against Aziraphale’s cheek with his thumb.

‘Don’t give yourself an aneurysm, angel,’ he said quietly, more a husky whisper than anything. ‘I can’t imagine the paperwork a discorporation would cause _now_.’

Aziraphale laughed, his eyes crinkling at the edges in the way Crowley had always loved, that had always made his heart skip, now that he really thought about it. ‘I love you too, you know. More than I think words can even _begin_ to describe.’

‘Do _not_ say the word _ineffable_ ,’ Crowley narrowed his eyes, but marred the expression by leaning in to kiss his nose.

‘Well, it _is_.’

‘I know, angel,’ Crowley kissed him again. ‘Trust me, I know.’

Aziraphale smiled and reached out to tap Crowley’s nose. ‘Well, at least you’re not ineffable. At least as a general rule.’

‘Angel, you can see right through me,’ Crowley smiled. ‘Well, except when it comes to how I feel about you, I suppose.’

‘Denial is a very funny thing,’ Aziraphale shrugged.

‘Not very,’ Crowley frowned. ‘But well, better late than never, hm? And here I was just thinking I was going along with your pace.’

‘You always have gone so much faster than I, Crowley dear,’ Aziraphale smiled fondly. ‘It’s about time I sped up a little.’

‘Oh angel, we can go however slow you want. I don’t need anything more than to have you next to me. Oh Sa-Go-someone – ugh – you’re turning me into a sap.’

‘A lovable sap,’ Aziraphale smiled. ‘I’ve wasted enough of our time, dear. It’s time I let you set the pace a little.’

‘Hmm, if you want me to tell you what I want, you sit down on that sofa and let me curl back up in your warmth,’ Crowley, very uncharacteristically, felt his cheeks warm. ‘That was nice.’

‘It was,’ the angel led the demon back to the sofa and dutifully sat down, allowing Crowley to curl up next to him, resting his head against the angel’s thighs. Aziraphale chuckled. ‘The snake is still there inside you, even when you figure out how to change back.’

‘Mm, I might start practising the changes more often,’ Crowley said, closing his eyes contentedly, allowing the warmth that was a permanent fixture around the angel to envelop him. ‘I liked being able to wrap my whole body around you. Really helps me send the message that you’re _mine_.’

‘Hm, I thought you were hissing a little bit ferociously there,’ Aziraphale reached down, running his fingers through Crowley’s feathery hair. He loved the softness that flowed over his skin, and loved the contented sound Crowley made when he did it. He smiled. ‘Crowley darling, you know I’m yours, don’t you? You needn’t worry about needing to stake a claim around everyone who talks to me.’

‘I don’t like the way they look at you, angel. They look at you like something they want to eat, or collect, or… they just look at you wrong. You’re the whole universe, angel, the planets and the stars, and they don’t look at you with enough reverence for that. They look at you like they want to make you one of their possessions.’

‘You must know I only have eyes for you,’ Aziraphale continued to pet Crowley’s head gently. ‘I don’t care how anyone else in the world looks at me. I care how _you_ look at me. And apparently you look at me like a heating blanket.’

‘You’re so much more than that,’ Crowley hissed contentedly, imagining the feeling of coiling himself into a comfortable serpentine lump in the angel’s lap. He felt his form cooperating with his imagination, allowing him to slither into Aziraphale’s lap. He slid up the angel’s front to rest his head in the crook of his neck, closing his eyes and hissing out a contented sigh. ‘But you _are_ warm.’

‘Hmm, you’re very affectionate for a snake, dear, I must say it’s a very pleasant surprise,’ the angel laid a gentle, warm hand atop Crowley’s large head, smiling at the happy hiss that greeted it. ‘Although, I’ll admit I _do_ rather like you like this. For brief periods of time. I did like the kissing too, which I think might be a little difficult with you in this form.’

‘We’ll do ssssome more of that later,’ Crowley agreed. ‘But for now, let’sss jussst ssstay here.’

‘Mm, yes,’ Aziraphale performed a Very Minor miracle to fetch the blanket, settling it over the great snake draped over him. Crowley snuggled closer, pressing his nose into the angel’s neck, making him smile, tightening the blanket around him. ‘Crowley, darling, we could stay here forever if you wanted. But… let’s start with the afternoon.’

Crowley, feeling the most comfortable he had ever felt in six millennia, agreed.


End file.
